The Amorous Mis-Advent

Look, the beloved bed receives the two lovers. Stop, oh muse, a step before the clothes change.

You've got to be kidding.

Quiet. It gets even better later on. It gets sexy. Without your help, all alone, they start to whisper tenderly.

Nor will the left hand lie idle on the bed. You read.

Those fingers will find what to do in those places where Amour secretly wets his arrows.